


Devil In The Mirror

by LesbianGhost713



Category: Creepypasta - Fandom
Genre: Blood and Gore, Eating Disorders, F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Original Character Death(s), Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-11
Updated: 2015-06-20
Packaged: 2018-03-17 08:45:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3522917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LesbianGhost713/pseuds/LesbianGhost713
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Karaline Black's life is miserable. Between taking care of her three younger brothers, school, and dealing with her frequently absent, abusive stepfather, she has no time be a regular teenager. The only thing she has to look forward to is the weekly delivery of fresh food and new clothes for her and her brothers from a stranger. After so many years of being abused and beaten she finally snaps. What happens when the serial killers known as the CreepyPastas take an interest in Karaline?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Author's Note

Hello people of ArchiveofourOwn! This is my first story, so it might not be award worthy, but I like it ^u^ I am open to critiques and comments, so please tell me what you like, what I may need to fix, or what you think overall. I’ll try to update as regularly as possible, but there are no promises. Lately it’s been a little hectic and stressful at my house and school. Life, ya know what I mean?

Anyway, I’m doing a contest for the chapter titles! Each chapter will be a line from a song and your job is to guess which song and artist it’s from. I do have a few rules for it though:

 

Only ONE per person. If you do know every one of them, good for you! but I want to give other people a chance

 

You MUST have the Artist/band AND the name of the song

 

If you submit a line, please don’t put the name of the song or the artist. It’ll be too easy. If you want to pm me about the artist and song, then please go ahead!

 

If I use your line or you guess the song and artist, you’ll get a shoutout on both the story and my profile, a follow from me, and a drawing request of whatever you would like.

 

PLEASE NO FIGHTING. WHICHEVER PERSON WHO ARCHIVE SAYS PUT IT FIRST WILL GET IT

Thanks you guys!

~Nyxx


	2. Prologue: The Only Thing I've Ever Known is a Broken Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A mysterious man  
> some violence  
> a lullaby  
> woohoo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TRIGGERING PROBABLY**

“I hate being called strong. I’m not strong okay? If I were so strong, I would have never cut myself. I would have never attempted suicide. I would have never skipped meals because someone called me fat. I would have never started this stupid self-destruction cycle. So, no, I’m not strong. I am far from it actually.” ~Anonymous

 

 

 

 

Thunder exploded among the obsidian sky; it seemed to scream at the ignorant slumbering town below. A silvery, alabaster flash of lightning clawed its way across the coal-black clouds, tearing them apart at their seams and sending their tears to the earth. Shadows suffocated the tiny, insignificant town of Everette, Wyoming. Consuming any light it discovered in its domain, there was a sliver of lamplight, however, that was determined to hold its ground against the darkness as it emanated from the bedroom window of a lonely thirteen-year-old girl.

Long, crimson hair spilled over her shoulders in a waterfall of dark curls; golden caramel orbs slowly losing their luster revealed just how much she wished to give into the exhaustion of trying tugging at the back of her mind. Many times before, I had seen it in the eyes of those I hunted as they begged for me to carry it out.

Something strange radiated from this girl. It is normal for me to see into the brain of these…pathetic excuses of meat suits. Their intellectual capacity is too easily surpassed; their thoughts are too preoccupied with what they’re doing at that moment to notice anything else. Every once in a while, however, you come across those few that distract themselves from rather demeaning things from those lingering inside their skull.

Humans are unintelligent, yes; they do use one hundred percent of their brain, but not all at once. That fact alone makes them seem strange. So I watch them with a curious interest. They are ambiguous to say the least. Many say that they love their children and would never hurt them only to beat them for stupid reasons behind closed doors. Some do everything in their power to convince the world that they’re fine, only to completely collapse in the middle of the night screaming for someone, anyone, to help them.

All at once, the lights in her bedroom extinguished. Usually that meant her foster father had returned from a night of prostitutes and booze. Gregory Shuman is a man of many things, but a caring and loving father is not one of them. The only reason his wife has not left him yet is because she fears that he will find her for revenge and eventually kill her.

Making my way to the front of the house, the young boy I often looked after stood at my side. His long black hair waved in the gentle breeze of the night.

“What are you doing?” he asked. His hoarse voice making him sound older that he actually was.

“Watching. It is what I normally do, is it not?” I replied sarcastically.

“Well no shit, but why this house again? This is the fifth time tonight,” he retorted.

“There is something peculiar about the girl that resides here. I intend to find out what it is, and why I am not able to read her mind.”

As we watched from outside, the girl emerged from her room while the man screamed at her. I felt the muscles in my face tense and contort into a look of utter disgust as he continued shouting at the poor defenseless child. His fingers entangled in her long scarlet hair and I watched in alarm as he launched her frail body down the staircase.

“Sick bastard,” the boy mumbled.

Suddenly an ear-piercing scream filled the air causing both the boy and I to jump. Tears fought their way down her cheeks; punch after punch delivered to her delicate body caused a whimper of pain to escape her mouth. For a split second, one heartbeat, I could see into her mind. Intelligence beyond any human I’d ever encountered filled this girl’s skull. She knew of the cruelty this world offered. She understood that words were useless; it was the actions that said everything. She grew up alone, without the comfort of a friend, or even someone who said that they care.

I did what any good father would do.

The inky black appendages erupted from my back, shattering the glass door in front of us. I was filled with so much rage and disgust that I did not notice the boy screaming and pulling on my suit.

“What the hell are you doing?” he screeched.

“I am doing what I should have when I first encountered this wretched man,” I growled. The black tentacle-like swirls wrapped around the greasy fat man, slowly forcing their way down his throat. Crimson blood exploded from his chest as they ripped through his rib cage. The sticky red liquid drenched the white walls as he took his last gasping breath. That was the end of Gregory Shuman.

A soft mumble echoed behind me as the girl backed up against the wall. Small tears rolled down her face while she choked back a sob.

“P-please don’t hurt m-me,” she sobbed. I felt something that I hadn’t felt in a long time, something I thought only existed in the human mind: pity and regret. I slowly walked over the shivering girl and sat down next to her, my long legs sitting over the glass of the broken door.

“I do not plan to,” I said softly.

“You-you killed him. You killed Greg,” she stuttered flatly.

“I have no use for abusive people.”

Unexpectedly, she crawled onto my lap and buried her face into my shoulder. Sobs racked her body, she kept whispering ‘thank you’ over and over. With a soft tenderness, I stroked her hair to attempt to calm her down, but the sobs only grew until she was gasping for breath. There was only one thing I could think of to calm her down, so I started to sing.

 

He stumbled into faith and thought,

‘God this is all there is?’

The pictures in his mind arose

And began to breathe.

And all the gods in all the worlds

Began colliding on a backdrop of blue.

Blue lips.

Blue veins.

He took a step but then felt tired.

He said, ‘I’ll rest a little while’.

But when he tried to walk again

He wasn’t a child.

And all the people hurried fast

Real fast and no one ever smiled.

Blue lips.

Blue veins.

Blue the color of our planet from far far away.

Blue lips.

Blue veins.

Blue the color of our planet from far far away.

He stumbled into faith and thought,

‘God this is all there is?’

The pictures in his mind arose

And began to breathe.

And no one saw and no one heard.

They just followed the lead.

The pictures in his mind awoke

And began to breed.

They started off beneath the knowledge tree

Then they chopped it down to make white picket fences.

They’re marching along the railroad tracks.

Smiled real wide for the camera lenses.

They made it passed the enemy line

Just to become enslaved in the assembly line.

Blue lips.

Blue veins.

Blue the color of our planet from far far away.

Blue lips.

Blue veins.

Blue the color of our planet from far far away.

-Elongated blue-

-Elongated blue-

-Elongated blue-

Blue lips.

Blue veins.

Blue the color of our planet from far far away.

 

The girl’s chest rose and fell as soft snores escaped her mouth. She felt too light for someone her age. I had held people at her age and they were at the very least twice her weight, she weighed less than what normal seven-year-olds did.

“What the hell was that?” The boy carefully maneuvered around the glass littering the floor, “you just fucking barge in here and kill him without thinking about the fucking alarm system? What the fuck is wrong with you? Do you know how stupid that was?”

“I am well aware that what I did was recklessly impulsive, but this girl is not like the others. She is far too intelligent and kind-“

“Who the fuck cares? She’s just a kid-“

“And as I recall, the same as you,” I interrupted bitterly. The boy looked hurt by what I said, though I do not know exactly why. His thin fingers curled around the handle of the knife he always carried.

“Fine, whatever. I’ll see you back at the house,” he snapped before running off into the cool of the night.

Ever so gently, I lifted the girl up and walked towards her room. It just further proved of the neglectful environment she lived in. The tiny twin mattress lay draped against the wall while the dresser lay on its side. The dark violet carpet was full of holes and was only clean enough to leave a trail from the door to the bed.

Just as I was about to leave I heard a small whisper behind me, “W-who are you?”

“I am the monster your parents warned you about.”

 

\---

I know that I suck at continuing to write because I keep rewriting the chapters I already have. But this time I will not rewrite until I am totally done with the book! Anyway, if you guys are wondering about the song it’s called Blue Lips.

Don’t forget to guess on the titles and submit your lines!

 

~Nyxx


	3. Chapter 1: Living a Life of Misery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coming Home  
> Stepdad is there. Uh-oh.   
> Almost Rape  
> Dead Brother  
> New Friend Maybe?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **WARNING**  
> THERE WILL BE ALMOST RAPE. I DIDN'T WRITE THE WHOLE RAPE SCENE, BUT...yeah. It happened

“I hate that feeling when you know you’re going to cry. Your lips quiver, your heart pounds, your eyes sting. Your face scrunches up and then the tears start to fall. You can’t stop them, no matter how hard you try. And it’s not little tears that slide down your cheeks; it’s big tears that make your eyes red and puffy, your face tear stained and your body heave. You can’t stop the tears as you lie on your bed alone, you think of what you could possibly have done to stop the pain. Stop the suffering. Stop this, stop what you’re going through. But there’s nothing you can do, nothing anyone can say. It’s the kind of tears and pain that need to be cried out, not talked out. And you know you’re hurting people you love, but you can’t help it, you just don’t care. Believe me. I know how it feels.” ~Anonymous

 

The tiny, delicate snowflakes danced on the gentle winter breeze as the sun glared brightly on the snow. For the first time in about a week the sun poked out from behind the gray-black clouds. As I trudged through the massive layer of snow blanketing the town, broken memories swirled and twisted in between the corners of my mind.   
When I was thirteen I was arrested for the supposed murder of my foster father, Greg Shuman. When his wife, Felicia, returned home from work, Greg was lying facedown in a puddle of his own blood. The dark red liquid had drenched everything, and I mean everything, except for my room. It was left completely untouched.  
I was released a few days later due to insufficient evidence. The footprints leading to my room didn’t belong to anyone in the town (yes they checked everyone’s shoes). I had obtained an injury to my spine that would have disabled me from doing anything to him, and my room was locked from the outside.  
Lost in thought, I almost tripped over our weekly delivery of food and clothes for the boys. Every Wednesday, someone drops a big box of fresh food, newly bought clothes, new toys for the three boys, and books for me. At first I was a little wary to let them eat the food, but we were all starving so I let them. The food wasn’t poisoned or tampered with, which I am thankful for, but I don’t know why anyone would go through all this trouble for my brothers and I.  
For the longest time I refused to eat the food the stranger brought for fear of them stopping the deliveries. I became too thin to function, I could barely walk and when I did my legs shook with the exhaustion of holding up my body. Then, one day there was a note attached to the box with the most beautiful handwriting I had ever seen:  
Karaline:  
Please eat, I’m not going to stop the deliveries anytime soon.  
If you would like for me to get something specific for you or the boys, please leave a note under the door mat. I do hope you’ll eat soon.  
Your friend:  
SM  
Ever since then, I’d write a note to SM asking if they wanted me to draw anything for them since they were going through all the trouble for us. They’d ask for a drawing of a wolf, or a dragon, sometimes a knight, and after a few days I’d leave the finished drawing under the welcome mat. The next day I’d find another note asking for something else.  
As I shut the dark wooden door leading into the house, my breath hitched in my throat. I struggled for a breath as that idiot stared at me like a moron. There, sitting on the old futon I called my bed, was the last person I wanted to see: my good-for-nothing foster father, Blake Hanson.  
“Hey Kara, miss me?” he sneered. His long-sleeved gray shirt was covered in stains of varying colors; the hair on his chin had grown out quite a bit, it was like he was going for a mentally sick redneck Santa Claus. His dark emerald eyes glittered with greedy anticipation, somehow expecting payment for even bothering to show up.  
“Hello Blake. What are you doing here?” I asked, attempting to calm the roller coaster of emotions I was feeling: anger, fear, exhaustion.  
“To say hello to my kids of course!” he exclaimed.  
“Well you’ve said hello. I’ll make sure to tell the boys you came by. Now leave.” I said indifferently.  
“Now now, is that anyway to treat the man who raised you?”  
“You didn’t raise me Blake. I’ve been living on my own with Percy, Dave, and Tony for two fucking years while you’re out getting drunk with some whore you end up fucking!” I screamed. Of all the garbage that comes out of his mouth this was the stupidest. He thinks he raised me?!  
“You better watch your tone,” he growled. Blake Hanson is not a man of peace. When he did keep his job as a judge, he was fierce and merciless. Nowadays, he tended to literally break whatever was upsetting him.  
All at once the air left my lungs and the box I was still holding fell to the ground with a loud thud. Blake pinned me against the wall and whispered in my ear, “Time for some fun.” before dragging me by the hair into the woods behind the house.  
He dragged me for maybe a mile as I screamed for someone to help. Of course I knew they wouldn’t, this town was renamed Folklore by the residents and they avoided the forest at all costs because of the rumored monster that lived there. In fact, I don’t even know why Blake was even going in there, he was the most superstitious person I’ve ever met, and believed wholeheartedly in the monster.  
Suddenly I was dropped on the ground in front of him. I refused to look up at the face of another man I once trusted who had used it against me. He picked me up off of the snow-covered ground and held me against him, his warm breath reeked of alcohol as it crawled down my neck.  
“I want you to look at me, do you understand?” he whispered, his gravelly voice trembling with excitement. When I didn’t answer he repeated it, only this time he grabbed my chin and forced me to look at him. “I said, do you understand?”  
“I hate you,” I muttered through tears, “I want you dead.” He then smiled as if that was answer enough before pinning against the nearest tree. He laced his fingers on one hand through my thick, dull red hair before grazing his lips with my own. With his other hand he tugged at my shirt, trying to pull it off.  
“Don’t be like that,” he cooed before ripping my shirt completely off of my body. His cold, calloused hands explored my body without permission sending shivers up my spine. Of course this sick bastard took it as a sign of pleasure and kept going.  
He dropped me again like a sack of potatoes and glared, “Stay there. You move, and I will not hesitate to kill you.”  
“P-please, just l-let me go,” I pleaded, “I p-promise I won’t tell a-anyone.” Tears continued to stream down my face as he unzipped his pants and advanced towards me.

“Maybe now you’ll keep your mouth shut.”  
The revolting man before me buttoned his pants again and sighed in satisfaction. My clothes were strewn around the pine needles sticking out of the snow. I refused to look at Blake, he disgusted me and I couldn’t see how anyone could stand to be around him.   
Tears welled in my eyes as the sound of the snow crunching underneath his shoes receded. The frigid cold bit at my naked body as I hurriedly dressed myself. I forced myself to continue if only for the boys.  
Why do you even bother Kara?  
“Because I wouldn’t be able to ‘rest in peace’ if they were on their own, Keller,” I said aloud. I didn’t care at this point; I was alone in a dark forest rumored to be inhabited by a psycho-metahuman monster. I’m obviously destined to be put in a psychiatric ward.  
And you care because? They aren’t even your biological brothers. What’s the point in caring if they’ll leave you when they find out what you’ve been doing lately?  
“What is it exactly that I’ve been doing?” I replied irritatedly.  
Your nightmares, your hallucinations, your paranoia; It’s all getting worse and you won’t tell anyone.  
“I should tell someone so I can be put in the looney bin? No thank you. I’d rather deal with it.”  
Kara, you need help and you aren’t receiving it. One day it will come to bite you in the ass and I won’t be there to help you like all the other times.  
“Keller, I don’t need help. I’ve got it under control.” I snapped, but he was obviously done. I knew he wouldn’t reply back. I guess I should explain the whole person-in-my-head thing. When I was younger, my biological brother, Keller, died in an accident. My parents said that I couldn’t get over it, so I had made him as an imaginary friend. The only problem is that ‘I’ got out of hand, almost killed someone, and was subjected to electroconvulsive therapy until they were convinced he was gone. He’s been in my head ever since.  
Falling In Reverse’s Pick Up the Phone erupted in my pocket and I realized my phone was ringing. An unknown number popped up on the screen and as I answered screaming and yelling came on the other line.  
“Ben, where the hell are you? Dad’s gonna be fucking pissed-”  
“I think you’ve got the wrong number.” I interrupted.  
“Oh, my bad. I’m so sorry…” he paused, his voice now smooth and orotund, “say, you haven’t seen a kid with blonde hair have you? He’s kinda short, blue eyes, kinda perverted?”  
“Sorry, no. I don’t get out much. Might wanna try Patricia Land, she’d probably know him.”  
“Oh please, that slut? He’s got higher standards than that, like Mount Everest Higher,” he snorted, “he’s probably at the arcade siphoning the machines for cash or something. Thanks for the no info though…”  
“It’s Kara, and you’re welcome. I’m pretty good at the whole ‘no info’ thing.”  
“See you around Kara!” he said, before hanging up.  
“That was the weirdest conversation I’ve had with anyone,” I sighed out loud before walking in the door of my house once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YES I FINALLY UPDATED


	4. You Can Be the Corpse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally finished another chapter. I didn't think it would take that long O-O

“My father had taught me to be nice first, because you can always be mean later, but once you've been mean to someone, they won't believe the nice anymore. So be nice, be nice, until it's time to stop being nice, then destroy them.” ~Laurell K. Hamilton, A Stroke of Midnight

 

((the song for this chapter will be You’re Going Down by Sick Puppies))

 

“The only table with any seats is over by Kara. In fact, you have most of your classes with her,” my art teacher, Ms. Franco told the new kid, Jack Something-or-Other. I had been alone in art because no one wanted to ‘catch the crazy’ that KooKoo Kara had. This kid will hear about it sometime today and won’t want to talk to me.   
I was used to it.  
Almost every new kid was next to me until the Pops told them about KooKoo Kara and how you could catch her crazy, so then they’d never talk to me. Usually it didn’t bother me, I could listen to my music until they started ripping the earbuds out of my ears, but lately, they’ve become more relentless; shoving me into the lockers, dumping me into the trash cans, swirlies; it was horrible and I was getting fed up with the bullshit.  
“Slow down there Killer, I can hear the paper crying for mercy,” a deep voice chuckled from above me. I looked up to see the new kid in all his Californian glory, at least that’s where he said he’s from. His dark auburn hair settled in his face, covering most of the sunglasses he was wearing that didn’t seem necessary inside a building.   
“I...just needed it darker here,” I lied. I hated talking to new people. What’s the point if they’re just gonna hate you later?   
He set his navy backpack on the table and plopped down in his seat rubbing his temples. He kept muttering something about how stupid it was to be here looking for a girl that probably wasn’t even here.  
“This is gonna sound really dumb and probably desperate, but the only reason I’m here in this shithole is I’m trying to find someone. Do you know anyone named Karaline?” He asked. My eyes widened at the mention of my name, being the only Karaline in the entire school.   
“It’s really important that I find her,” he urged.   
“My only question is why, why do you need to find Karaline?” I mumbled  
“I need to apologize to her. I called her the other day and I felt like I was being rude,” he admitted.  
“You weren’t rude,” I replied before realizing what I’d said, “I mean, you probably weren’t rude.”  
He raised his eyebrow, and I was hoping he hadn’t heard me admit to being Karaline. He sighed and pulled his backpack open grabbing a sketchbook from inside. From its condition it had been used many times and he had to flip through several pages before finding one to settle on.  
I breathed a sigh of relief as I replaced the earbud and continued working on my drawing for SM.

 

* * * * * *

The loud shriek of the end-of-the-day bell pulled me from the daydream and back to reality. Almost every student in the room literally jumped from their chairs and ran out of the stuffy English classroom. I didn’t; I took all the time I could to avoid going home. I shoved my notebooks into my torn messenger bag, put my earbuds in, and turned up my music as loud as it would go.  
The longer I took, the stuffier the room became. I knew my English teacher wanted to leave, seeing as it was the weekend, but I didn’t want to go home. That was the last place I wanted to be because Blake has been there all fucking week, and so help me if he doesn’t leave, someone is going to die and it’ll be on my hands.  
“Goodbye Mrs. Goode,” I mumbled.  
“Goodbye Kara, have a nice weekend,” she answered in relief.   
I slowly stood from my desk in the back corner and walked out of the tiny classroom. My mind wandered to the assignment as I wandered through the now empty hallway. I released a breath I didn’t realize I was even holding.  
Kara-  
Keller didn’t finish before my body slammed into one of the dark purple lockers. A loud metallic bang echoed throughout the hallways while a feminine, bubbling giggle followed.   
“Hey what’s your problem? I didn’t even-” I trailed off before glancing up at the Queen Bee, Patricia Land, and her scouts; Adrian Garcia, Nicole Potts, and Felicia Kidman. Their platinum blonde hair all stuck out like a sore thumb against the natural brunettes and redheads of Wyoming. Constantly wearing sandal heels, even in -20° weather; they always singled someone out at the beginning of the year and for the last three or four years that had been me.  
“Oh look girls, it’s KooKoo Kara! Careful not to touch her or you’ll catch it,” Patricia snorted.  
“She belongs in a mental hospital!” Nicole spat.  
“No, she belongs in the trash,” Adrian giggled before kicking me with the tip of her shoe.  
All I wanted was to go home and run into the backyard, I’d always felt safe in the long grass of the edge of the forest. This place was filled with the stench of hormonal teenagers and low self-esteem with a hint of overly high expectations.  
For the past four years I’d been the butt of everyone’s jokes, pranks, and bullying all because they found out that I had been put in a psychiatric ward when I was twelve. I was officially done with this bullshit.  
“Oh look, it’s the Queen Prostitute and wannabe Barbies. How many guys did you sleep with this weekend? All of them?” I mimicked their ridiculous laugh while I tried to stand, but Patricia grabbed the collar of my shirt.  
“Excuse you, and what the hell do you think you’re doing?”  
“Oh god, get a breath mint. Your breath smells like you’ve been gagging on one too many dicks,” I waved my hand in front of my nose making a face. That only seemed to make her even angrier, which was just was I was hoping for.  
“You better watch it Freak, or you’re in for a world of pain,” she growled as menacingly as a teacup chihuahua in a pink bow.  
“Oh what? You’ll sink your perfect manicured fingernails into me? Maybe even send your boyfriend after me? I’m so fucking scared,” I laughed. These fake dolls didn’t scare me, neither did their boyfriends; they’re all a bunch of posers trying to act like they belong. News flash: no one belongs here.  
“Adrian, go get the boys. Maybe she’ll learn her lesson after they’re through with her.” Patricia grinned, her artificially whitened teeth almost glowing. Her long blonde hair hung at her sides as she used her heels to keep me in place.  
“Patricia, what are you doing?” Nicole asked in panic.  
“Didn’t you just hear what she called us? She has no right to talk to us like that!” Patricia spat.  
“You promised we wouldn’t physically hurt her to the point of bruises. You promised me, you promised that we wouldn’t get into trouble,” Nicole argued.  
“Plans change Nicole, she obviously hasn’t gotten the message,” Patricia growled, turning to me. She spun around to greet her current boyfriend of two days, Derek Grosling whispering something into his ear. His expression went from neutral to anger to hatred in a matter of seconds.  
“So you think you’re all high and mighty now do you?” his voice low and threatening. Dark gray eyes shot daggers at me as he grasped my hair against the locker, “Newsflash Freakazoid: we run the school. If the other mutants see you talk back to us, who’s to say that they won’t? Who’s to say that the nerds won’t fight back? So talk back to her again and your life will become a living hell.”  
“Like you fake-ass Barbies could make it any worse,” I manage to choke out as his hands wrapped around my neck. I seize onto his hands and kick him in the stomach just to get him away from my face.  
“You’d be surprised Whoreo,” he laughed before his fist connected with my cheek. My head went sideways and the bitter iron taste of blood filled my mouth.   
“Oh please, you’re just a fuckboy. The insults you’ve got come from the white boy down the street who thinks he’s part of the hood. All you’ve got are your lame followers who are too dumb to realize that you’re just as stupid as they are,” I said while wiping the red liquid dripping from my mouth and gaining my footing. Around three of the eight guys he brought with him audibly said ‘oh shit’ before looking at Derek for the order to charge.  
His expression hardened before he lunged at me, but before he could even touch me, I moved out of the way and he rushed headfirst into the lockers. He growled and stood up, blood dripping down his forehead.  
“You’re gonna...gonna regret that Karaline,” he spat. No one had ever used my real name and it sounded alien coming from Derek.  
“Bring it on Fuckboy,” I challenged.  
Derek growled and snorted, he was a bull charging the matador. A glint of silver caught my eye before the wind was knocked out of my lungs. Something sharp had pierced my side; Derek backed away, smirking as I brought my hand to where I felt the pain. When I took my hand away, it was already covered in blood.  
“Wrong choice motherfucker,” I hissed through clenched teeth. My hand shot out in front of me before Derek’s groupies had a chance to interfere. Grabbing a hold of the object he stabbed me with, which was a pocket knife; I had taken out his tongue and waved it in front of his face while he screamed in pain.   
Next, I pinned him to the ground and held the knife against his throat. He struggled against the ground as one of his friends attempted to carry me off of him. I lashed out, swinging the knife across his dark skin. Before I knew exactly what I was doing, I had slit Derek’s jugular causing him to bleed out all over the floor.  
“Nobody moves, and no one dies. Got it?” I growled. I looked around wildly at the twelve teenagers standing in front of me. I realized that they all watched me murder the captain of the basketball team. I needed to get rid of them if I didn’t want to risk going to jail again.


End file.
